


Stroke the Pig

by applepieisworthit



Series: Dáin's Pigs [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crack, Humour, another story for dets, cant control myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:51:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3644175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applepieisworthit/pseuds/applepieisworthit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you stroked my Battlepig? </p>
<p>(Dain has a Battlepig with him in the council meeting and you're not allowed to speak unless you've stroked the pig.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stroke the Pig

**Author's Note:**

  * For [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sansûkh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/855528) by [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/pseuds/determamfidd). 



> Another Sansukh cast idea.... I'm never gonna write a serious story at this rate...

Ori didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d become scribe for Dáin, new King under the Mountain after Thorin, Fíli and Kíli’s deaths, but it certainly hadn’t been what he’d just experienced in the council chambers…

It had gone on for weeks now. Ori was growing increasingly freaked out by the fact that no one else seemed at all phased by Dáin’s incredibly odd behaviour. Ori had always imagined that sitting in a King’s council chambers would be thrilling and one of the best experiences of his life.

The reality, however, was completely different. Most of the topics discussed were dry and seemed altogether very inane in the grand scheme of things. The only interesting thing to Ori was Dáin’s conduct in the meetings. What really niggled at Ori, above all the other seeming slights against his fantasises of experiencing a King first-hand; was the fact that Dáin didn’t seem to like being King. As much as he had taken to ruling Erebor as though he had been trained for it his whole life (which Ori supposed he had, considering he’d ruled the Iron Hills for around 150 years) he took no delight in the fact that he was King. He was not born to it like Thorin, Fíli and Kíli had been and that distressed Ori. 

When Ori had had to endure Dáin’s incredibly odd mannerisms and actions for over two months he finally turned to Balin for an explanation. Balin had just laughed at him and told him to pay attention at the next council meeting.

Ori had left Balin's rooms more confused than when he had entered. The next day, however, was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Dáin had done some weird things in the council chambers in Ori’s opinion this day was the worst so far.

Ori had walked into the council chambers and nearly straight into the back of another Dwarf. He had stared confused at the Dwarf for a moment before he had stepped around him and headed further into the room, in the direction of where he usually sat.

It was Dáin that stopped him, “Ori ma lad! Where d’ya think yer heading off ta?”

Ori stopped still in his tracks before slowly rotating to stare at Dáin. The Dwarf King was staring back at him, one eyebrow raised and his head tilted slightly as if he was considering Ori. What really struck Ori about him though was the baby pig settled comfortably in the King’s lap. 

Ori blinked, horrified, at the King. Unable to come up with any viable reason for him to have a baby pig in his lap.

“Is there a reason ye haven’t stroked ma baby Battlepig Ori?” With mounting horror Ori turned to face his King fully and stared at the rest of the council members as they all watched him back. He came to realise that the Dwarf he had walked into when he first entered had been queuing to… STROKE KING DÁINS BATTLEPIG…?

Dáin was staring at Ori expectantly now, so he stepped forward hesitantly until he was placed just beside the King’s chair at the head of the table, and cautiously reached his hand out towards the baby pig – sorry ‘Battlepig’ in the King’s lap. Dáin nodded encouragingly toward the pig, so Ori placed his hand on the pig’s head and stroked carefully down its back.

When he pulled back, unsure, Dáin smiled warmly at him and waved him away to his corner. Ori didn’t know what to think as he scuttled away from the King and hid behind his customary desk with his ink and paper spread out before him.

Ori had thought that the end of it until a late council member strolled in sent a brief bow in Dáin’s direction and sat in his seat. A silence fell over the chamber and Ori thought he even saw a couple of Dwarves cringe. He couldn’t understand why when Dáin had not exactly reacted badly to Ori not realising that he had to… stroke a… Battlepig (Ori’s brain was still protesting the absurdity of that statement). 

Dáin had raised a scathing eyebrow in the unfortunate Dwarf’s direction and Ori soon saw why; it was one of the Broadbeam nobles who had arrived at the mountain not long after the reclamation and had been very vocal about her distaste with ‘unworthy’ Dwarves being promoted above their station, her name was Brynwyn. Ori had a particular hatred for her because his brothers, he and the other lower born Dwarves of the company; Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, were who she was explicitly referring to. Whilst she had some support from some other stuffy nobles, Dáin was having none of it and was constantly pointing out to her that they had been the ones to reclaim Erebor from a dragon for Durin’s folk.

So Ori felt a vindictive pleasure when Dáin cut off her beginning statement by raising a hand, “My Lord we…” there was an unpleasant silence for an excruciating two minutes whilst the Broadbeam noble waited for more from Dáin and everyone else held their breath. Ori was gleefully scribbling down all relevant information behind Dáin.

Brynwyn looked around questioningly before turning back to Dáin, “My Lord?”

Dáin just stared at her in silence. Unlike his older cousin Dáin could be incredibly patient when he wanted, and now was one of those times.

The silence stretched on.

When the lack of anything became too much for her and she still did not understand why exactly Dáin had stopped her in the first place she tried to carry on, “My Lord, we believe that…”

Dáin once again stopped her with a waved hand, though this time he then pointed at the baby Battlepig on sitting content on his lap. Brynwyn stared questioningly at the King, clearly at a loss as to what was expected of her. Again she opened her mouth to carry on talking.

“My Lord. Me and my fellow…”

“Brynwyn.”

“Yes… My Lord?”

“Have you stroked my Battlepig?”

“Your…? My Lord, I really feel that this matter…”

“The Battlepig.”

“Yes My Lord. Haha very funny I'm sure…” every Dwarf in the room cringed simultaneously. Ori was pretty sure that his mouth dropped open. He had known that this Dwarrowdam was clearly not the brightest Dwarf in the mountain but to say something so obviously insulting to the King. Ori did not think anyone was that stupid.

“I did not think it funny Brynwyn.”

“My Lord?”

“I think you will find, daughter of Fernyn that the correct way to address King Dáin is not as my Lord.” Dáin waved a hand at Dis beside him, murmuring not to worry.

“Aye, Brynwyn, you get too familiar.”

“I apologise my King.”

Dáin raised an eyebrow at the flustered Dwarrowdam half-seated, half-standing further down the long council table, “Aye, I'm sure you do.”

“King Dáin…”

“Stroke the Pig Brynwyn.”

“but sire…”

“The pig Brynwyn. Everyone else has. I will hear nothing you have to say until you stroke the pig.”

“but…”

“Stroke. The. Pig.”

“Sire.”

“Now. Stroke the Pig, or I will have you in the chambers no longer.” The Dwarrowdam looked at the King in horror, “First you have spent the months since you arrived insulting the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, the very Dwarves who took back this mountain for all of Durin’s folk and risked their lives against a dragon doing so. Now you have insulted your King even further by not respecting traditions from my home land.”

“Sire that…”

“Stroke the pig or leave.” Brynwyn stared at Dáin in horrified shock before rising properly from her place and slowly approaching the King.

Ori watched on in amused fascination as the Broadbeam Dwarrowdam reluctantly stroked Dáin’s baby Battlepig, and pulled her hand away as quickly as possible. Dáin smirked up at her, leaned back in his chair at the head of the table and waved her back to her seat.

Finally Ori understood Dáin’s intentions with the odd mannerisms and actions. The Dwarf King was incredibly aware that many did not regard him as fit to rule Erebor. Dáin clearly didn’t care and planned to run Erebor how he saw fit, and how he knew Thorin would approve of him running it.

The baby Battlepig had been the most extreme test so far.


End file.
